


Welcome Home

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris comes home from a book signing.  Sexy time ensues.  Mirror!sex + reverse cowboy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

It's the first time that they've been apart for more than a day or two here and there since things have become serious.

Will is okay with that—he has writing to do, his friends are feeling neglected so there's always that avenue, and Brian Colfer is a demanding little shit who he loves dearly. He and Chris are both grown men in possession of well-adjusted senses of self; they part easily enough.

What Chris leaves behind makes him smile. Being in the house makes him feel settled in a way that he never has before in his adult life. All in all, things are amazing, and it hasn't required much effort to get used to the idea that he will occasionally have to play the part of a celebrity widow.

Chris hardly has the time to call or Skype. He's not going to be in the city for long, and the time that he has to spend there has been scheduled to the minute, so Will isn't surprised when he receives nothing more than a few brief texts at odd hours, full of funny auto-correct mistakes and obviously rushed attempts at witty emoji combinations. He already has Chris' itinerary in his phone, and they don't have return flight airport plans—Chris usually has things to do when he lands.

Chris had warned Will that he typically comes home with Alla in tow after this kind of a trip, because they have things to finish up and Chris likes to take her out for a meal and drinks once they're through, but this time he arrives by himself, earlier than expected, his hair limp, his sunglasses on, and relief that he's home written across every line of his body.

Will is vibrating—being apart hadn't been too bad in the lonely department, but the last twelve hours had sucked for whatever reason, and catching a whiff of Chris' cologne is all that it takes to get his heart pounding. He can hear Brian yowling for Chris' attention as he walks down the stairs, and finds Chris halfway to the kitchen with the cat winding circles around his feet.

“You _did_ feed him at some point, right?” he asks, smiling.

Will grabs him by the flaps of his jacket and pulls him into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He expects evasion after the initial, surprised return kiss—Chris is very particular about his post-travel regimen, he knows (Alla and Ashley had been thorough with the warnings early on, even before he'd had a chance to learn them first hand) and he won't tolerate Brian's insistence for long before he gives in and puts a scoop of kibble in that empty bowl—but Chris shocks him by pressing him back into the kitchen counter and licking into his mouth instead.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathes, shoving his fingers into Will's hair and twisting them.

Will grabs two handfuls of that ass and squeezes. He is not going to question this situation. “Yeah? How much?”

He isn't really prepared, though, for Chris hooking his fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants and dragging him toward the stairs without a verbal response. By the time that he catches up with Chris, who is red-cheeked and stripping off his jacket and shoes and socks like they're running out of time, he's twitching.

Chris is standing at the foot of the bed, wriggling delightfully to get out of his skin-tight jeans and underwear. Will stops to stare, watches the denim peel away like thin fruit skin off of ripe fruit, watches those pale, long legs appear, actually feels his dick rise in his sweatpants at the naked sight of them, thick, juicy thighs and hairy calves and the profile of that sweet, round ass. Chris' t-shirt's hem ends just above the half-hard jut of his dick. Will's mouth waters.

“Lie on the bed,” Chris says, half-whisper, half-rasp, and Will's ass hits the mattress so fast that his head spins. Chris disappears and then comes back with lubricant and a towel.

_Shit, fuck, okay._

He's still wearing that tight black t-shirt, and the blinding contrast between his skin and the fabric is alarmingly erotic. He straddles Will's legs and knees up the length of Will's body, bends over to kiss him and press him down and flat across the mattress.

They've fucked every way that two people can fuck, but Chris like this, urgent and almost single-minded about it, telling him exactly what he wants without many words, is a treat, and Will lets himself enjoy it. Melts into the bed as Chris plays his mouth open, as Chris' hard body layers atop his like frosting over cake. He feels too much in too short of a span of time—love and lust and that unsettling, vague guilt of being spoiled, of feeling as if he still can't believe that this is his reality.

“How was—”

“Fuck me,” Chris says, kissing his neck, breathing shallow and fast.

“Oh.”

“Actually,” Chris says, reaching for the lubricant, then rucking up his t-shirt around his waist so that he can fondle his dick and balls into place before spreading his thighs over Will's hips, “I need you to let me fuck myself on you.”

Will's brain goes pleasantly blank. “Oh, god.”

There's a mirror adjacent to the bed; they are well aware of their own attractiveness and have no shame about using it to watch themselves in the act (making videos is not and will never be an option).

“And I want you to watch,” Chris adds, as he reaches behind himself to apply the first few smears of lubricant. He tugs Will's sweatpants down so that the waistband catches beneath his balls, but doesn't move to remove anything else. Will inches the towel beneath them with practiced ease.

“Fuck. Okay.”

And then Chris turns around to face away from him, sitting back on his thighs, and he moans aloud. They've never done it like this before.

The t-shirt tugs deliciously tight across Chris' shoulders, then runs smoothly all the way down that long back before cutting dark and sharp across the rise of his round, tight ass, its cheeks glistening with lubricant. The dip of Chris' lower back grows even more pronounced when he reaches back again. The sway of his cock and balls as he passes the pump-top bottle to Will is hypnotic.

“I used too much already, but,” he says, looking over his shoulder—sharp profile, mused hair on his forehead, the peculiar and beautiful up-turn of his nose—at Will, “hold me open?”

Will wraps his hands around those gorgeous globes and squeezes them, spreading them, pressing them together, pushing them up and then down, until his skin is blazing and his fully erect cock has settled against Chris' thigh. It nudges greedily against the underside of the curve of his cheek, as if it has a mind of its own.

“Oh my god,” he says, as Chris takes his cock in hand. “I've heard of absence making the _heart_ grow fonder, but nothing about asses.”

Chris giggles and then gasps when he sits back, pushing the crown of Will's dick against his rim. “Jesus, oh my god, you—”

Will grins, hooks his hands around Chris' ass and carefully and slowly pulls him down. “Mm, c'mere.”

“Fuck,” Chris hisses, his knees slipping sideways on either side of Will's body. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah.” The way that he bends into it, like his entire body is merely an extension of the place where he's being stuffed full, makes Will's breath catch. The tight-as-a-fist ass may also be a factor. “Let me, just, let me, let me.” His breath hitches, catches on high-pitched _ah ah ah_ 's as he rocks Will's dick inside inch by inch until he relaxes around it.

Will sprawls beneath him, legs useless, arms on the mattress, watching his cock slide, shining wet and so hard, in and out of Chris' hole. He can't even bring himself to hold onto Chris at all, with how deeply Chris is falling into it—through the mirror he can see Chris flushed to his nipples, his eyes slitted in pleasure and his fingers shaking, one hand grazing Will's leg and the other wrapped around his own cock, tugging.

When the lubricant dries and Chris begins to go faster, Will pumps another dribble of it between his cheeks, drawing a soft noise from him.

“Oh, god,” he breathes, and begins rolling his ass back in undulating waves, his ass jiggling as it pillows Will's cock on either side, the muscles of his shoulders and back and thighs clenching. “Oh, god, fuck, fuck.”

Will can't help but watch them in the mirror, his dick pulsing and his pulse racing. Chris is gorgeous like this, taking it deep and fast but entirely in control, enjoying every second of it in ways that he had only learned with Will. How to let go. How to trust. How to let that translate from mind to body and back again. How to be comfortable letting someone in, literally and figuratively.

“Look so good,” Will breathes, his pecs and abs jumping with the effort that holding back from coming requires. “So fucking hot.” He can't resist putting one hand, flat from fingertips to the heel of his palm, up and under Chris' t-shirt. Chris' lower back is just beginning to sweat, and it's fever-hot to the touch. He curls his palm down over Chris' plump right cheek, holding it to the side so he can watch.

Chris stops suddenly, the hand that he has near Will's knee closing up into a fist. He bends forward between Will's outstretched legs, his spine bowing, his ass spreading, his knees digging into the bed. He drives himself back onto Will's cock at that angle, his forehead almost touching Will's calf, it's that low. He stays that way, popping his pelvis back and up again and again, dropping whimpers into the silence.

“Shit,” Will pants, holding onto his thighs.

“Gonna come, almost, oh, fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” Chris whines, his voice breaking, and Will watches, enthralled, as his rim flutters and releases as he comes in his own hand, his balls cinching up and the base of his cock throbbing, its veins standing out in sharp relief. Will can't help but wrap his hands around his barely-there little waist and squeeze, holding him down and close.

It's too much—normally he would back off, fuck Chris a little longer, but it's been days and his boyfriend just jumped him and rode him as a substitute for _how-was-your-weekend_ , and Chris' ass is throbbing around his dick, and he just lets it happen, his fingers digging white into the even brighter white of Chris' cheeks as his cock jumps, spilling inside. He slips out almost accidentally when he sucks a shuddering breath into his lungs, and his come leaks out.

Chris is watching them in the mirror, so he grasps the shaft of his cock and uses the head to gently press his come back inside. This is also something that they've never done, but when he pushes up, his heels digging into the mattress, his come a sloppy white spill all over Chris' hole and cheeks, Chris whimpers. The wine-red flush all over his face darkens.

“You like that?” Will asks.

He makes a noise.

“Me fucking it back into you?”

He makes another noise and rolls his ass from side to side and then back to front. “Y-yeah.”

Will slides a lubricant-and-come-sticky hand up Chris' bare spine below his t-shirt. It's only now that he notices Chris still has his underwear tangled around one ankle. “Jesus, you—you were wild, there.”

“You have no idea,” Chris breathes, still staring at their bodies in the mirror. “On the flight back, I almost joined the high mile club with myself.”

Will laughs. “Easy to get used to, those twice-daily orgasms.”

“Let's not low ball, now.”

“Sometimes three. Okay.”

Chris bends all the way back as easily as a gymnast, flattening his back over Will's torso while allowing his muscled thighs to simply bend, taking his weight down. Bent backwards like that, his body is just that much more stunning, the muscles of his legs, torso, arms, and shoulders all corded up at the same time, his flat belly going concave between his ribs.

He turns his face and captures Will's mouth with his. “Being away from you sucks.”

“You should stop doing that, then.”

“Kay. Bye, job. Hello three-orgasms-a-day poverty.”

Will smiles. He turns his face into Chris' warm, damp temple and breathes in deeply. “I dunno. Welcome home sex was pretty great. Maybe time apart has its perks.”

“Point,” Chris says, nuzzling into the space behind the hinge of Will's jaw.


End file.
